Tanka Over, Again

The sword hangs above –
Mantel – put safely away,
But eyes caress it
Palms itch its hilt to hold, grasp
Power the blade promises.

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Right or Wrong, we can
Become who we mean to be
If we follow dreams
Which take us, loving, beyond –
Familiar habitations.

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Writing the wishes
No magic ever renders
For humans are free
Souls crave every destiny,
Love guiding all that will be.

Prompt: Do you tanka?

Abbreviated

Richard’s beautiful Orange Tabby, who is never entirely sure I am okay. Tonight I agree with him because I seem to have acquired a toothache that is also a headache.

I returned my DirecTv equipment today, so I have cut the cord and sunk the satellite. The amount of television I watch is so minimal; I probably will never miss it.

I do recommend streaming Peaky Blinders, Good Omens, and The Expanse. I only finished Good Omens. On Audible, I loved The Sandman. If you gathered, I am a Neil Gaiman fan; you read clues well.

The poem so heavy with images was an experimental rewrite; I probably should post the original of Same. I am on my phone tonight without my computer because I have been spending some respite time with Richard. It will wait. I do not like poetry on mobile because it always inserts extra spaces when I write.

Prompt: Tell someone you love that you do.

Same

We are coiled fibers
On separate continents
Our wiring entwines
Balances our humanity
Furnishing hope, joy, and love.

Our hearts beat, rhythm,
Alike, in Crayola bodies,
Grace swearing us in,
Hands touching hands, render smiles,
Cherishing we ragamuffins.

Presents beribboned
Sharing melodies inspired
Forgetting in place
Differences – become friends,
Each countenance shining light.

Opening ebon doors
To unleash brilliance, delight;
Understanding change
Growing fruitful, courageous,
Saluting equally all.

With passion aflame
Given examples guiding love;
God who embraces
Each aspect, person, creation
Abides, the Spirit of Grace.

Voluble

(Poe, Shakespeare)

Books, their vivid color
Punctuating stacked spaces
Where they live, abide,
Knowing the words written on
Pages, covers – keep inside.

(Mitchell, Milton)

All the best people
Have names imprinted upon
Sturdy spines of volumes
Which invite others entry
To interiors of mind.

(Thoreau, Cameron)

Patterns woven in
Every brain, of letters which
Trace information
Only gained in printed permanence,
Dust coated or freshly created.

(Goldberg, Ginsberg)

Inked spaces running away
With any bold imagination
Enchanted enough to open,
Investigate stories penned
Set down, forever displayed.

(Emerson, Fox)

Lofty shelves overrun
Excess in careful mazes
Upright, often nearly toppled,
By a body gone awry, astray,
Never intending a mess to make.

(King, Koontz)

Every author studied
For a hint, an inkling of
What may capture hearts,
Craving permission to continue
Bundling lines readers might like.

Panegyric

Some rave everything
Is broken, nothing works right,
Labor is in vain,
Everyone is misinformed,
The future holds no promise.

But –

When I look around
I see the restoration
Of communities,
People who lost their way find
Others willing to lend a hand.

Hearts –

Engaged in building
Better tomorrows for all,
Reaching out to help
Encourage more faith, hope, love
Which are foundations of growth.

Many –

Are creating lives
Which they dreamed into being,
Becoming more who
Inspiration taught they were,
Conquering criticism, doubt, fear.

Doom/Gloom –

Are over-rated
If we open our eyes to
See, the world has much
To recommend itself and us;
Life is beautiful and blessed.